


Don't Want An Ending

by Skylar0Grace



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar0Grace/pseuds/Skylar0Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her way back to Hartford, Rory bumps into someone she never thought she'd see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Turn Back

It was his voice that she heard first. Initially, she couldn’t place it and the current frustrated tone hid the usual flirtation, but recognition finally settled on her and she turned in surprise. Of all the petrol stations, in all the towns, in all the world... well, just what were the chances that in a tiny country town, in the middle of nowhere, Tristan DuGrey would be arguing with the clerk in the petrol station?

The teenager looked less than thrilled at being at work on a public holiday and even less determined to show a thread of empathy. Rory Gilmore randomly picked up a bag of chips from the shelf, her tough decision now being left to the fates, in light of current events, and still held that sliver of doubt that she would be standing so near to the boy that had disappeared from her life so abruptly.

“Tristan?”

He spun around quickly and although he had mastered the social mask that most of their class had, she was quick enough to see total surprise register before an amiable smile.

“How’ve you been?”

The question was the standard one you would ask a person you hadn’t seen in years but it was also that same as the one you’d ask if a total stranger approached and you were failing to put a face to a name in a long-forgotten history. His smile seemed so easy, and his demeanour had shifted so suddenly, that she frowned a little and leant forward, trying to avoid embarrassing him—though she suspected the teenage clerk looking at the magazine behind the counter couldn’t care less.

“It’s Rory? We went to Chilton together?”

Tristan laughed loudly and she frowned harder. Composing himself for the briefest of moments, he leant forward, as though revealing some secret in return.

“I know who you are, Mary. What makes you think I could forget you?”

Feeling thoroughly embarrassed, and attempting not to blush, Rory gestured over his shoulder. “Problem?”

Tristan seemed to remember his frustration and his shoulders tensed up in response. “Very much so. My flight to Hartford was cancelled last minute because of the hail storm that hit and my rental just broke down here where, apparently, the mechanic won’t be in until Wednesday.”

He raised his voice, and threw the last part over his shoulder, in the hopes of procuring a different outcome but the clerk seemed oblivious to the fact that they were even there at all. Tristan rolled his eyes.

“I tried calling the rental company but they gave me the spiel about it being a public holiday, having limited mechanics on call, the ‘unique’ location I was in... basically nothing. Then my phone died. I was expecting a flight so I didn’t worry about the low battery before.”

He blew a breath out in frustration.

“Do you want a lift?”

Rory wasn’t sure why she’d offered. It was spur of the moment, perhaps nostalgia, maybe even a way to relieve the upcoming boredom of the sixteen hour trip ahead. He had been looking at something out of the window but his head whipped back quickly and it was his turn to frown. “You’re going to Hartford?”

She smiled. “Yes. Well, actually, no, I’m going to Stars Hollow, but Hartford’s only another forty minutes so I can swing you out there.”

“It’s sixteen hours. It’s not like it’s just down the road.”

“I have to go that way anyway, it’s not as though it’s the opposite direction. If you wanna wait around here, that’s fine too.”

She was smirking, she was sure of it, but the panic in his eyes at being stranded made any fun he might have at her expense worth it. He spared no look for the clerk as he raced outside, presumably to get his things, and she placed exact change on the counter before following him out.

* * *

_Tristan lay on his queen-sized bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling. There were incredibly soft, plush pillows underneath his head and a plush comforter beneath his body. In the lap of luxury, the teenage boy should have been fast asleep instead of replaying the scene, from several weeks ago, in his mind for the umpteenth time. In the minute or so that he had been standing there in that courtyard, he’d thought he had felt every possible emotion but it had merely been the beginning of a rollercoaster that he had no way of knowing the finish line to. A war was currently waging inside of him as he tried to figure out where everything had gone wrong._

_He was a DuGrey. He had more standing and money than ‘Bagboy’ could hope to ever have in his entire life and, from the miniscule amount of time he had spent with him, he was nowhere near Mary’s intellectual equal. What could she possibly hope to have with him in terms of a future? Tristan was absolutely positive that the Gilmores would not be accepting of him—how could they be? In trying to rectify the social damage done to the family line by their daughter, they would have every hope that Rory would go to college, become successful, marry well—none of which she could do with Dean’s weight attached. Rory had to have some ulterior motive._

_But whatever that was remained a mystery._

_What else could he do? It wasn’t like he was asking her to marry him and settle down; he just wanted a chance to show her that moving in different circles meant leaving the dead weight behind. Even if Rory could be happy with someone as mediocre as Dean, he could never fit into her life. If she wanted social obscurity, she should never have come to Chilton and as for Harvard, well, Tristan was having doubts that the guy would be anything but a bagboy his entire life and that wasn’t exactly the kind of person she should be proud to have hang off her arm. That display in their school courtyard should have mortified her. Perhaps it would in the future. Either way, she’d thrown him to the wolves without a care, and a bitter part of him hoped that she felt bad about it._

_Guilt set in at the thought and he was reminded of the easy way she had smiled at him when they’d finally found some common ground. He had tried showing her that her preconceptions about their society had not been entirely true and if she just decided to give him—them—a chance, she would see that. People were, effectively, people; they laughed—and hurt—the same, whether they had developed a social mask or not. Maybe after spending a little time with ‘Bagboy’ she would realise that there was nothing more to him than what she had already seen._

_Tristan rolled over onto his side and looked at the tickets on his bedside table. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t worked the way he’d expected them to and, yet, a part of him reprimanded the selfish way he had gone about it. He knew, even as he was doing it, that it was wrong. Trying to force her into a corner so she would go with him was unlikely to work, but the teenager in him just saw his desired outcome—that she would go with him, albeit reluctantly, and actually enjoy herself. Realise that he wasn’t as bad as she envisioned him to be; that he could be the person she wanted him to be. Maybe even begin dating him as a result. It could have worked._

_But he knew it wouldn’t have. She would have resented him and all of his hopes would have been dashed._

_All of the effort he was putting into the one girl was making his head hurt. He’d never had to work for a girl’s attention before. He wondered if she thought about him even half the amount that he thought of her. Was she kept awake at night as their interactions played over and over in her head? He wanted to cut his losses, give up on the girl who had showed time and again that she wanted nothing to do with him, but every night, when he closed his eyes, she would invade his dreams. Rather than the usual banter or brash responses, she smiled. Her eyes lit up when she saw him and he could fall into those big, blue eyes without a second thought._

_Damn her._


	2. Years of Dreams

_He turned off his mobile and shoved it into the duffle on the bench. This was his time. His down time. He played 'ball' with father when it was absolutely necessary and when it wasn't, he'd play ball, whenever he wanted, with his mates. Jonno Swain, his team captain, called out to him and he turned around in time to see a basketball about to connect with his face. His hands came up in time to prevent a bloodied nose and he glared good-naturedly at his friend._

_"You're up!"_

_Tristan dribbled the ball back onto the court, eyes darting briefly around as he took note of where everyone was positioned, a plan forming in his mind. He dribbled twice, a signal for his team on the play, before feigning left and racing right. His team effectively cleared the shot for him, and his eyes were on the prize when a group of women walked past, he faltered in stride and the ball fumbled from his grip causing his friends to laugh heartily. Jake Phillips, an old bunkmate from Military school, slapped him on the back._

_“I think the ladies prefer when it goes in.”_

_Jake offered a quick wink before nodding his head toward the others. Tristan watched as the women walked on with nary a glance in their direction. Jake pushed him gently toward the bench and Tristan sat down as his friends picked up their belongings and threw goodbyes over their shoulders. Jake dropped beside him and handed him a bottle of water._

_“What’s up? Your mind has been gone all game.”_

_Tristan unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, allowing the thirst to give him the time to think of his response. The setting sun and the irregular breeze created goose bumps along his skin. He capped the bottle and rested between them._

_“My father has been calling all arvo. I know he wants me to confirm my plans for break but I’m still hoping something will come up and I won’t have to go.”_

_“Why don’t you finally tell him ‘no’?”_

_He scoffed. “Nobody says ‘no’ to my father. At least, no one lives to tell about it. He already hates that I’m here; says that Princeton is beneath our family name. My Grandfather managed to smooth it over but he can’t keep doing that.”_

_“I know all about your douche of a dad but that doesn’t explain your crappy game. Seriously, man, you totally blew that last shot over a couple of girls? You got something going on that none of us know about?”_

_“Ha! Not lately!”_

_Jake shoved his shoulder. “You’re an idiot! There are a million girls trying to track you down; a million more waiting in the wings. You should be having fun while you can!”_

_Tristan simply smiled and shook his head but Jake looked at the direction of the departed women and assessed him with sharp eyes._

_“You’re still hung up on that Mary girl from private school?”_

_“What? No, there’s nothing in that. I mean, that girl reminded me of her, but there was never anything there.”_

_“A love lost though...”_

_“Leave off! Sure, she was the kick in the butt I needed at one stage in my life, but every decision doesn’t revolve around a girl I barely knew in high school. You can’t help remembering certain people, that’s all.”_

_Jake just watched him knowingly and Tristan blew out a frustrated breath. Sometimes he had the overwhelming urge to hit him—and he totally would, if he wasn’t his best friend. He had had enough of the heart-to-heart from a mostly unsympathetic and stirring friend. Today was just a bad day and he was frustrated from the constant barrage. It had nothing at all to do with seeing a woman who looked uncannily similar to a girl he once knew._

_And he’d been in love. Sara had been his world once, even if she no longer was. He most definitely had not been in love with Rory Gilmore, even if he had believed he was at the time. Love was more than just a gratitude for the eye-opener, more than just a desire to spend time with a single person. Perhaps, if things had been different, there might have been something there in the end. Maybe._

_The past was the past and he needed to be in the present. Seeing a familiar face every now and then was normal; being under pressure like he was, was bound to make him want for simpler times, when the world was at his feet and the skies were mostly sunny._

_Jake walked back with him to the dorms and had a heart, changing the subject matter to encourage conversation. It worked. Discussion on the upcoming finals, and the assignment looming over their heads, brought out a different set of concerns, and he forgot about the blue-eyed brunette he had almost seen that afternoon. Later, Jake would try and wrangle more information out about his ‘Mary’, the one he had spoken of with such allure in the beginning, but she had been safely tucked back away in the recesses of his mind. Only he would have that second look when a pretty brunette walked by, and only he would be disappointed when it was not who he thought it was._

* * *

The roads were all the same; they weren’t bare, but there was no variety in the flora and few houses to break the monotony. Rory and Tristan had come to an arrangement of sorts that one would take over driving from the other to ensure a speedy arrival, and make as few stops as possible. Rory glanced sidelong at her driving companion but it was he who spoke first.

“So, how did things work out with Dean?”

For a moment she was taken aback. Rory had never heard him use Dean’s name. She blinked a few times before raising an eyebrow, eyes briefly flitting to him before snapping back to the road.

“Dean? Not ‘Bagboy’?”

Tristan smiled. “Last I heard, you were riding off into the sunset. I don’t see a ring on your finger so I assume that you ended things at some point.”

“Perhaps we just decided not to get married.”

He rolled his eyes. “Then he would be even stupider than I thought he was.”

She contemplated the merits of telling him, the usual pro/con list in her head; she was under no obligation to and, chances were, she wouldn’t see him again after dropping him off in Hartford. She didn’t need to explain, yet she found herself wanting to.

“Obviously, we broke up. It was a long time ago.”

He continued to look out the window at the passing scenery. “You were too good for him.”

“You’re not the first to say that.”

There was a brief silence before Tristan turned to look at her. “I heard you went to Yale. Weren’t you supposed to be Harvard-bound?”

“Could have been. I picked Yale instead. What happened after Military school?”

Tristan laughed. “Okay, I get it. No more personal questions for you.”

“No, no, it’s just... okay, let me put it this way: there’s years of unknown between us. The last time we saw each other was that night and we could spend the entire trip just taking a walk down my memory lane.”

“So life was exciting, huh?”

“It had its moments.”

“After Military school was Princeton. Met a girl, fell in love, asked her to marry me and she said ’no’. Graduated with Honours. Currently an Author and working on my latest novel. My memory lane has been walked—fill me in on yours.”

She glanced at his grin. There was so much she wanted to know, more details on his life, but he was challenging her, daring her to have a more complicated journey and something about him seemed to bring out the fire in her as she pursed her lips in contemplation.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Let’s have a speed walk down my memory lane and head back over to yours.” He nodded his head in affirmation and she took a deep breath. “After Chilton was Yale. Lived with Paris. Had an affair with a married man, joined a secret society, stole a yacht, was arrested and dropped out of Yale. Went back to Yale, became editor of the paper, graduated, turned down a marriage proposal and took a job working the campaign trail. I’m currently on vacation before my new job starts.”

Rory was reluctant to look at him, somehow feeling that his disapproval of her mistakes would make a considerable impact on her, so she glanced across quickly, only to see a pensive look. He raised his eyebrows.

“What do you want to know?”

There was no barrage of questions, no disappointment.

“What was your major?”

“Business. Family-ordered. I got my choice in colleges, they got their choice in majors. Everybody won.”

There was a heavy amount of sarcasm behind his words and she decided to change the topic.

“What about this novel? How come I haven’t heard of the new and upcoming ‘Tristan DuGrey’, author extraordinaire?”

“I use a pseudonym, Robert Grayson. There was no way my father wanted anyone to know that his only son had turned his back on the family business for something as trivial as writing and this was my way of poking a stick at him.”

“Robert Grayson? I’ve heard that name before. Wasn’t it some kind of business-world drama or something?”

He laughed. “Something like that. Basically, ‘Unidentified’ is the downfall of a business mogul and ‘Unprovoked’ is his journey to expose corruption in the world he’s left behind.”

“What’s this third one about?”

“Well, I had a basic outline in mind but I think I’m gonna throw it out and bring back one of the characters from the original book. Give the world a bit of a shake up.”

Rory grinned. “I’m definitely in! Six weeks vacation and a massive reading list to conquer – another couple of books thrown in won’t make much difference. And I can give the author feedback, too!”

“Well, what about this secret society? Tell me about that?”

Rory laughed in disbelief. “Out of my long list of dirty laundry, that’s the thing you wanna hear about?”

“Why not?”

“Okay, it was originally just a story for the paper that got a little out of hand; daring feats and all that jazz. After all, the first rule of Fight Club...”

“... you don’t talk about Fight Club.”

“Exactly!”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly a fount of information. I’ll have to pick a better topic next time. I guess you want to know about Sara?”

Rory fought the blush she knew was threatening to rise to her cheeks.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have brought it up, otherwise. But there’s not a whole lot to tell there either. We met in the first week at Princeton, started dating not too long after that. She’s funny, smart, gorgeous—very down-to-earth. I proposed in our final year but she wanted to move on with her life.” He shrugged. “It happens. We still talk a couple of times a year though, just to catch up. She’s in Detroit with this great guy she met a couple of years ago. They’re getting married in spring.”

It was a sad happiness that she could see on his face.

“Have you ever thought about what would have happened if you hadn’t gone to Military school?” she suddenly blurted.

He was definitely surprised. “Once or twice. I do know one thing—I would’ve been the best Romeo that school had ever seen!”

Rory laughed. “Humble as ever, I see. It’s just, we were friends—or at least becoming friends...”

“We were friends. And who knows? I may have been successful, at some point, in getting you to go out with me.”

“Ha! You’re forgetting that I was dating Dean then.”

He looked across. “I wasn’t forgetting that. Besides, he had nothing on me! I would have been the token bad boy that girls don’t wanna bring home to their mothers.”

“Been there, done that. And, despite your reputation, you wouldn’t have been able to compete. Try again.”

He frowned in false concentration and she laughed. “What about the cocky, rich kid trying to buy your affections?”

She made a buzzing noise like an incorrect answer in a game show. “Had one of those too. Anything else?”

“Reformed all-of-the-above trying to sweep the girl of his dreams off her feet?”

She was quiet. “Could have worked.”

He gave a half smile. “It wouldn’t have worked. You and me? That school would have eaten us alive if we’d tried. It would have very much been a Romeo and Juliet scenario and Princeton would have missed out on my genius.”

He widened his smile as she offered one in return but she couldn’t help thinking that they’d somehow just skated over very thin ice.

“I know we’re not making many stops but do you think we could stop for food? I didn’t have lunch and I’m starving.”

Rory grinned and reached blindly into the back, pulling forward the canvas bag that had been behind his seat.

“It’s not a road trip without food.” She exclaimed cheerfully, dumping the bag in his lap.

He rustled through the bag, looking at his various options before withdrawing an opened packet of Red Vines. He offered one to her first before pulling one out for himself and replacing the packet, stowing the bag back behind his seat. She tutted at him, picking up the bag and leaving it on the back seat.

“Amateur. Just how many road trips have you been on?”

He grinned. “Not as many as you, obviously.”

Rory reached into the pocket behind his seat and pulled out a CD wallet. “The CD player can take five CDs, so make them good.”

“Won’t they all be good? I mean, they’re yours anyway.”

“Well, that’s my road trip collection and my Mum has a habit of sneaking some music in that I wouldn’t otherwise have chosen.”

“Like UB40?”

Rory looked at him in mock horror. “Hey! I love that CD!”

Tristan simply laughed and replaced it in the wallet. Looking over the various options, Tristan pulled five CDs and loaded them up, setting the player to random and turning up the volume. The familiar notes to ‘Life Is A Highway’ poured from the speakers and Rory tapped her fingers to the familiar beat. The unfamiliarity with her passenger lost out to her habit of singing to her music and she sang softly, keeping her eyes off her cause for embarrassment. She needn’t have worried though, for once the chorus began, Tristan jumped in, singing louder than she had been and clapping along with the beat. She grinned and by the end of the song, they were singing in tandem, pretend microphones and all, and bouncing with the beat.

When ‘Fast Car’ began, over an hour later, the sun had set and Rory had begun looking for a motel. She had originally had no plans to stop but the sugar rush had now waned and her eyes were tired. Tristan must have been thinking along the same vein, because the minute he spotted the neon sign, he pointed it out to her as though they had been looking for it all along.

Rory pulled into the parking lot and was momentarily surprised. She had stayed in many places over the years but none had looked as much like the Bates’ motel as the one in front of them. The neon sign flickered briefly before finally settling and Rory hesitantly got out of the car. She noticed that Tristan was already reaching the office door and she hurriedly locked her car as she ran toward him.

The gravel crunched beneath her feet and the bell on the door rang out as Tristan opened it, stirring the pretty woman behind the desk who had fallen asleep. She smiled as she looked up at him.

“Hi there! What can I do for you?”

Tristan leaned onto the counter and smiled back. “We’re just wondering if you have any rooms available?”

The woman’s eyes darted toward her and Rory stood a little taller. “How many do you need?”

“Two please. Preferably down that end of the carpark.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice slightly. “It’s closer to the car.”

The woman reached behind her and pulled two keys off the board. “We have two rooms left down that end; room two and four. If you need anything, just dial ‘9’.”

She batted her eyelashes at him and Rory reigned in the desire to roll her eyes at the obvious flirtation. Tristan took the keys and opened the door for Rory. It was much cooler outside and she brought her arms around herself to stave off a shiver. She followed him down the verandah until he pulled up outside a door with a brass ‘4’ barely hanging on.

“You take this room; it’s the closest to the car.”

Rory nodded in thanks and watched as he disappeared into the room two doors down. It may have just been the fact that she was tired, and the motel looked a little eerie in the dark, but the first thing she did was check the shower. Satisfied she was on her own, Rory read over the neatly printed out information for the guests and saw that check out was eleven. She set her alarm for ten and curled up in a ball on the edge of the double bed.

* * *

It was four in the morning when she found herself wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to turn off, taking the opportunity to power ahead at full steam after she woke from a troublesome dream about someone in her room. She rolled over, wrapping the pillow around her head in a fruitless effort to try and block all of the thoughts running rampant, but was soon stilled by a constant tapping noise from outside. She slowly got up from her bed, making sure to have her mobile in hand, just in case, and tiptoed to the window. A quick peek from behind the blinds proved she was in no danger and she felt her body relax at the thought, even as she quizzically watched the man outside. Rory pulled on her jacket and stepped outside.

Tristan was sitting in front of his door, a handful of stones from the carpark in his hand and aimlessly tossing them out. He paused as she closed her door and glanced at his hand.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He frowned. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Rory shook her head and sat beside him. “Nah. I couldn’t sleep.”

He tossed another stone into the darkness and Rory straightened her legs out before leaning back on her hands and looking up at the stars. Tristan stilled beside her and just as she made up her mind to turn to him, she heard the familiar sound of a stone hitting the ground again.

“If you could go back and change one thing in your life, what would it be?"

She took a deep breath. "Nothing, actually. If I hadn't made all the decisions I had, made all the mistakes I had, I wouldn't be right here, right now, feeling the way I do. I'd be a different person relying on different experiences, and I may not be happy with the way things always went, but I couldn't change it."

Rory looked across to see him wearing an amused grin as he shook his head. "What?"

"Spoilsport!" he laughed. "How am I supposed to change anything with my faux opportunity after a speech like that?"

She nudged him with her shoulder and looked up at the stars. "I may not go back and change anything, but I can look at every opportunity now and decide if I'm happy to let things lie, or if I'd regret not saying or doing something. Leaves less room for spontaneity but also less for-"

She was cut off abruptly as he turned her face to his and softly kissed her. This would have been a perfect moment to demonstrate that decision-making process she'd just been talking about, but her body betrayed her and acted on impulse as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. Her kiss was harder than his, surprising her; she’d felt like her emotions were a tightly-coiled spring that he was now on the other end of, but the sudden release was enough to get her brain working again and she pulled away. An apology was on the tip of her tongue as she looked back at his surprised face but she watched, fascinated, as it morphed into an easy smile.

“I’d been wanting to do that for a while. I wasn’t expecting that reaction, but I can live with it.”

Rory dropped her face to the ground in an effort to hide the blush she was positive was lighting up her emotions. “What were you expecting?”

He was silent for a moment and she glanced up at him. He shrugged. “Well, you’re still here and not crying, so I guess anything was bound to be better.”

“Well, I haven’t just broken up with my boyfriend, so I’m in a better mood.”

“I could tell.”

The blush came back full force and no amount of looking away would have hidden it. She expected a smirk, at the very least, but he simply smiled and stood.

“There’s enough time to catch a couple of hours before we need to leave. What do you say we check out and hit the road by nine?”

Rory felt too dumbstruck to do anything but nod and he uttered a simple ‘goodnight’ before retreating to his room and leaving her with her thoughts. There was absolutely no way she was going to be able to sleep now. Confusion swept through her like a sudden storm and she felt her fingers tingling with adrenaline. Laying back on the concrete, she put an arm over her eyes and let out a heavy breath.

* * *

Sleep refused to come and, instead, he lay wide awake, face down on the bed. He hadn’t intended on kissing her; but she appeared to be so relaxed as she looked up at the stars from beside him and as soon as she’d mentioned spontaneity, he’d found himself closing the distance between them. However, she had kissed him back. She’d seemed just as surprised as he did though he wondered if it was because she’d kissed him the way she had or because she’d kissed him at all. It had taken every ounce of strength in him to pull away from the situation. That kiss had proven to him that she was exactly the sort of woman he could easily become lost in and, right now, he needed to be clear-headed. He was in no rush to get to Hartford but, when he did, he needed no distractions.

By the time the bedside clock hit seven, he felt he had considerable more control over himself. He quickly showered and packed the few things he’d bought into the room with him, making sure not to leave anything behind. If they left by nine, and hit no traffic, they’d be in Hartford by nightfall and he’d be one step closer to putting the situation there behind him. When he opened the door, he saw Rory asleep in the ground with one arm over her eyes, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. He just could not catch a break.

Tristan crouched beside her and softly shook her shoulder. “Hey. That looks extremely uncomfortable.”

Wide, blue eyes found his before darting around and settling back on him, while the corners of her mouth turned up softly. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight. You’ve got enough time to shower, if you want. I’ll go grab us some coffee.”

Her face lit up. “I could kiss you right now!” Just as quickly, her smile dropped and her face turned bright red. She was on her feet in seconds and backing her way to her door. “I’ll, uh, just go. In there. Bye.”

Her door closed behind her, followed by the soft thump of something hitting it. He laughed. It took him almost an hour to find drinkable coffee and by the time he reached the car, she was leaning against it, sunglasses on as she seemed to soak up the sun. He swallowed thickly and held out a cup to her.

“I’ve checked us out, you just need to return your key. I’ll get the car started.”

She slid amiably into the driver’s seat and he pulled the key from his back pocket as he approached the office. An older man was now sitting behind the desk and didn’t say a word as Tristan handed the key over. His attention seemed to be on the paperwork in front of him and he didn’t respond to Tristan’s thanks. Rory smiled as he slid into the seat beside her.

“Let’s hit the road, Jack!”

He grinned and looked out of his window as they pulled from the parking lot. The rising warmth in his chest, the pull on his heart strings, caused the smile to fade and Tristan tried his hardest not to frown. For the first time in months he was feeling alive and it wasn’t until that moment that he realised he had been going through the motions of life, happy enough, as long as he didn’t focus on that spot where something was missing.

That spot had always had always been the shadowy place that he was afraid would suck him in if he explored it and he’d always assumed it was leftover from his love for Sara. Sitting in the car, watching as a small town came and went in the blink of an eye, he was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn’t a void left by a single person but by a part of him that longed for something he didn’t have.

‘What if’s’ floated around his head as he glanced sidelong at Rory. If nothing else, she had been a catalyst for his desire to change. Her rejection of him had been the first time he had truly questioned himself, his life, and after that he’d seen signs everywhere confirming it. His life could have been very different had it not been for that.

His heart fluttered at the thought of her and Tristan was surprised. He’d had a crush on her as a teenage boy but that had hardly been surprising, considering the circumstances, and it had faded with distance and time. But the same stirrings were at it again, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps it hadn’t actually gone away, if it had been present the entire time, but hidden amongst the trappings of life. He’d never really believed in the concept of ‘The One’, mostly because his dysfunctional childhood had led him to believe that it didn’t exist, but once again, Rory Gilmore had been there to ‘save him’, albeit in a vastly different way, and he was still feeling drawn to her. She didn’t have to be the greatest love of his life. Maybe she was destined to-

“Where are you?”

He turned to the woman in question, mouth agape, as though she had been reading his thoughts and asking him the very question he had been asking himself. He managed to spit out a ‘Pardon?’ and she smiled softly.

“You looked lost; staring into space, you know?”

“I was thinking.”

“Anything you wanna share with this relatively small class?”

He could tell her; he could explain his confusion over the feelings he’d long thought dissipated, confess that he was beginning to question the evolution of his decisions in life if he took her presence out of the picture. He could say aloud the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that perhaps she was the very thing he needed and in a matter of eleven hours and twenty-three minutes she would effectively be gone from his life and he just knew there would be a hollowness in his chest that he wouldn’t be able to explain away.

He could tell her.

“It was nothing.”

* * *

She had thought the remainder of the trip would be awkward. Truthfully, the first ten minutes weren’t the easiest she’d ever had, but they had fallen into an easy conversation and she had pushed their kiss as far back in her mind as possible, which, given his presence, wasn’t as far as she would have liked. Her sunglasses had provided her with a shield of sorts for her emotions and, although they weren’t actually necessary, they had given her the delusion that he could no longer see right through her. 

They had switched drivers after they’d stopped at a petrol station for lunch and Tristan was currently driving, his speed easy although his posture rigid. She looked at the clock and realised that if they pushed through, they could make Hartford by late evening. Tristan, however, seemed to be more and more anxious the closer they got. He had stopped making conversation an hour beforehand and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. She reached over and touched his hand and his eyes snapped to hers. She pulled back.

“I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night and I could do with a proper meal. Would you mind if we stopped somewhere decent and made the last bit tomorrow morning?”

He paused for a long moment and she was about to redirect his attention to the road when his gaze turned back of its own accord and he seemed to relax into the seat. His hands loosened on the wheel and when he looked back at her, he was smiling.

“Sure. Another few hours won’t make a difference.”

Rory didn’t know what to say and, instead, smiled. As if on queue, a yawn escaped and she turned to look out of the window as he laughed softly.

“I’ll stop at the next appropriate place.”

The closer to Hartford they drove, the more lights and people there seemed to be. She was used to long stretches with nothing to look at and the passing streetlights turning on with the fading light had a strangely hypnotic effect on her. The next thing she knew, her passenger door was opening, and Tristan was crouching down beside her seat. 

“I’ve already booked us into the motel. The kitchen here is still open and I’m told they have an excellent chef.”

If the motel from the night before had looked like something out of a horror movie, this one looked like something from a fairytale. It actually reminded her of The Dragonfly Inn in its simplistic beauty. She smiled at Tristan as she got out of the car and heard him close the door behind her. With a light hand on the small of her back, he led her to the restaurant and, as she sat at a table with a view of the brilliantly lit garden, she noticed Tristan talking with the waiter. The other people nearby seemed oblivious to her and she sat back enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, reminding herself to get the details of the motel for her mother. Tristan slid into the chair opposite, handing her a menu.

“What do you feel like eating?”

Rory perused the menu before her. “Something other than a limp salad sandwich.”

He laughed and nodded. The waiter took their orders and Rory looked across at Tristan trying to figure out how to broach the subject on her mind.

“Do your parents live in Hartford?”

As expected, he stiffened and seemed to hold his breath as he looked at her. 

“Yes.”

He offered nothing more and she shifted in her seat. “So do my grandparents. Still. Well, you would know, you’ve been there.”

Tristan nodded. “That’s right, the unwanted birthday party.” He smiled. “I’ve heard good things about your grandfather. He’s retired now, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. At first he just drove Grandma crazy but they’ve made it work.”

“Do you see them much?”

“Some. I was on the road a lot with my last job but they bought an apartment for me in Hartford so I’d have somewhere close by to crash. I’m actually going to be staying there before the new job starts, though I’ll be spending tomorrow night with my mum.”

“In Stars Hollow?”

Rory smiled. “Yeah. It’s home.” She paused momentarily. “Where is home for you?”

“I live in New York. Not a bad place to live. I’m able to write there.”

“Did you plan on living there?”

Tristan shook his head as their food arrived at the table. “No, it just sort of happened. I gravitated there after university and stayed. I have a nice place, good friends, and there’s great food everywhere. I’ve never had a reason to leave.”

“Is that where you see yourself staying? In the long term, I mean.”

His fork halted midair as he eyed her curiously. “I don’t know. I’m usually only looking ahead in regards to my novels, not my life.”

She nodded thoughtfully and began eating. Curiosity was welling up inside her, though she couldn’t figure out why. He hadn’t really been an open book when they were at school and she didn’t know why she was expecting something else now, even if he had grown up. She saw Tristan eyeing her but she was too busy with the conversation in her head to take a whole lot of notice. Rory reasoned that her curiosity had to do with the new potential friendship they had struck up and wanting to know things about a friend. After all, it had been a number of years. It had nothing at all to do with their kiss the night before. That was just residual. Curiosity, perhaps.

By the time they reached their rooms, she was a bundle of nerves. Her heart was racing as she reached for the door and when she looked over at him, standing outside his own door, she felt the telltale signs of a blush. The night before hadn’t been anything like what she had expected and she felt a war within herself as she struggled with what she was expecting from the night before them. If he saw the internal struggle reflected in her expression, he said nothing. Instead, he softly smiled and offered a ‘goodnight’, before retreating to his room. Rory determined that the crushing feeling in her chest was juvenile and unimportant and closed her own door behind her.

Sleep, the fair-weather friend, was decidedly absent for most of the night. She tossed and turned, even got up and fiddled with the air-conditioning, but the elusive fiend stayed away until sheer exhaustion took over. She woke up to the sunlight streaming through the curtains and a persistent knock on the door. In her sleep-addled state, she didn’t even think about who was on the other side of the door until after she had thrown it open and frowned at the offender. Tristan simply looked her up and down.

“Not a morning person?”

She ignored him as she left the room door open and disappeared into the bathroom. The first spray of cold water caused her to let loose a shriek but it was most effective in waking her up. Adjusting the temperature, Rory made quick work of her hair, forcing her body to not get too comfortable in the warm shower. She was clearing the mist from the mirror when she realised she only had a single change of clothes left in her bag. She had expected to be meeting with her grandparents, even though nothing had been arranged, and had packed accordingly. The dress clothes would not be the most comfortable for driving in, but Tristan had covered a fair distance the day before and there was only a couple of hours to go. He seemed to be surprised at her clothing choice when she emerged but he said nothing as she pulled her sunglasses on and ushered him from the room.

Tristan barely said a word to her once they were in the car and she was not looking forward to another couple of agitated hours in the car. “We should be there by eleven.”

It was apparently not what he had wanted to hear, if the way he flinched was any indication, and Rory noticed him glance at his watch more than once. She didn’t know why she cared about what was going on in his head and the more she sat in silence and stewed, the angrier she felt. She had made the decision to pull over to the side of the road and ask him outright what was wrong, but he spoke first.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow night?”

She wanted to be angry. She’d been building up an impressive amount of frustration, and had had every intention of sharing that with him, but the smile on his face was something she hadn’t seen all day and she felt the frustration dissipate quickly. 

“Sure.”


	3. Who Knows Where

As she drove away, Rory watched him in the rear view mirror long enough to see him look away from her departing vehicle and up at the imposing gates before him, looking every bit like a scared little boy working up the courage to ask the daunting neighbour for his ball back. It occurred to her that she hadn't asked him why he was returning to Hartford, and although he had his suit bag over one shoulder and an overnight bag in his hand, he didn't appear to be someone who was heading back home. All she wanted to do was hold his hand and help him brave whatever it was he was warring with himself about.

Which was absolutely crazy. Knowing it and believing it were two different things though. There was a strong pull in her chest when she was with him, something she hadn't felt in a long time, and although the usual mental pro/con list was playing out in her mind, all she wanted to do was turn the car around. Rory knew she was attracted to him, that they were compatible enough to be friends and that if she let herself, she could fall in love with him. There was a further pull because even though he had been filled in on the grittier details of her life, he still looked at her as though she were the same innocent girl he knew in school. She felt stupid for feeling grateful over such an insignificant thing and, if there was ever anything between them, being on a pedestal would be a major problem. But there was something about the way he'd smiled at her that left her feeling as though he'd seen 'her'; that he'd brushed aside the 'dirt' from her life experience and seen her for who she'd lost sight of so long ago. 

There was also the major problem that falling in love with someone, especially someone like Tristan DuGrey, could just lead to massive heartache, probable career damage, and a mountain of debt if things ended badly between them and he chose to use his family's power to destroy her. Somehow, despite all of the cons, she found herself not caring like she supposed she should have. She was only young and stupid once. The last time that someone had sufficiently broken down her walls, she'd done more than one reckless thing and had to pay the penalty. She wouldn't give it up though; even knowing what she knew now, she'd do it all again. Add into the mix potentially stronger feelings for the man she had just left and she was not at all surprised that she took the next left and drove around the block.

He was still standing in the same spot when she pulled up across from the DuGrey mansion. He seemed oblivious to her arrival until she was mere steps away and her movement broke him from his thoughts. He blinked a few times before his brow furrowed and he tilted his head questioningly.

* * *

Tristan’s resolve was collapsing like a precariously stacked tower of cards. He’d pulled together every bit of strength so that he could enter those gates again, and all it took was a pair of blue eyes to make him want to turn and run. He pulled in a deep breath, hoping to gather courage enough to wonder about her presence, but she offered a small smile and slipped her hand around his, easing the suddenly heavy feel of the overnight bag. Her touch was feather-light and he couldn’t help the feeling that somehow his heart was breaking a little at the kind gesture.

“What are you doing here?”

His question was harsher than he intended it to be, but she seemed unfazed as she looked through the gates to the mansion behind them.

“I forgot to get your number.”

The remark sounded every bit the lie it was, but he followed her eyes to the drive before them. It was full of cars lining the long, tree-lined path to the house and there were a handful of people heading toward the large, open, front doors. A maid greeted each one, taking their coats and passing them to a subordinate. The sea of black made his breath hitch in his throat and he felt a gentle squeeze, one that seemed to encourage his body to pull in the oxygen it so desperately needed.

“My grandfather,” he offered, and she nodded silently beside him. Taking another deep breath, he looked across at her. “You can’t be here.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes and he exhaled in defeat. “I like you a lot, Rory, but this is not the time or place to test out whatever this is. I don’t want to be here. This is the last time I ever will be here. And I need to be able to hold it together enough to get through the next few hours. I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

“Please let me help you.”

He placed both bags on the ground and turned to her, holding her face gently between his hands and willing her to understand him.

“My parents would eat you alive. We’re not good people, Rory, not like you. You should walk away.”

She seemed to roll her eyes in frustration and gripped his hands. “I’m not the same girl from Chilton, Tristan, I’ve-”

“It’s not about _what_ you’ve done,” he interrupted, “it’s about _who_ you are—that person hasn’t changed. And I’ve seen what happens to people like you in a world like this.”

His voice trailed off and she smiled bitterly. “I’ve already been in this world before, and if I can survive the Huntzberger’s, I can survive anything.”

Surprise most definitely showed on his face and she waited for a moment as he put two and two together. He had made a concerted effort to not have anything to do with society once he’d left it, but news still filtered around. He’d heard about Logan’s new ventures, and engagement, but it had already been broken off by the time he’d heard and, to be honest, he hadn’t really cared. There was an ache in his chest but as he turned to look back at the gate, he took a step back from her, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“That may be, but Logan was at least in good standing with his parents. I’m not. This is going to be a massacre. More so with you there.”

She moved quickly; one moment she was staring up at him with a determined expression, the next, she was pressed against him with a far more fueled kiss than the one earlier. His hands gripped her hips and when she pulled away, he had to fight the urge to pull her back and forget the world around them existed.

“Feel that? I don’t know what that is,” she said, bravely, “and I’m not ashamed to say that it kinda scares the crap outta me! But that’s what you bring with you when you’re about to walk through the gates of hell. I’m not gonna push you again, Tristan, but you shouldn’t do this on your own.”

“Forget about the absolute train wreck that will involve my parents, what about everyone else? You really want them talking about this before we do?”

Her frustration seemed to deflate. “You’re forgetting something. Not everyone in there will be the enemy. Grandpa talked about Janlen a number of times—he’ll be there—and so will my grandmother, and their friends... I managed not to burn all of those bridges. Who cares what anyone says anyway? Do you live your life by that?”

His heart thumped noisily in his chest and he grit his teeth before sighing. He pulled her closer and softly kissed her, trying to draw strength from her, before his hand found hers and he tugged her toward the gate.


End file.
